


The World Can Burn

by Callofthemoon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Dont mess with Derek, Kidnapping, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Leaves Beacon Hills, Stiles Stilinski Leaves the Pack, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:53:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25369420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callofthemoon/pseuds/Callofthemoon
Summary: Stiles tried to figure out if knowing that he had been drugged from the way his tongue felt was a good or bad thing. On one hand he could figure out exactly what happened, and how he was transported from the college library to being chained up in a dark, slightly damp, torture dungeon. On the other hand, he was all too familiar with the feeling of being drugged and waking up chained up in a dark, slightly damp, torture dungeon.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 7
Kudos: 336





	The World Can Burn

Stiles tried to figure out if knowing that he had been drugged from the way his tongue felt was a good or bad thing. On one hand he could figure out exactly what happened, and how he was transported from the college library to being chained up in a dark, slightly damp, torture dungeon. On the other hand, he was all too familiar with the feeling of being drugged and waking up chained up in a dark, slightly damp, torture dungeon. He desperately hoped that one day the villain of the week might be a bit more inventive. Waking up on a couch in a sunlight room would definitely unsettle him significantly more than the rusty shackles and dripping wall that marked the corner of every single one of these rooms. He was also mildly concerned about the number of torture dungeons that apparently existed in Northern California, because really, he was kind of expecting to have run out of these by now. 

How do they find them even, is there a villains’ Craigslist, allowing the latest henchman to pick abandoned warehouses and rent what appeared to be a full set of serrated knives laid out the table. Stiles hoped so, those knives were expensive. He also already had three sets from his last few kidnappings, really was more trouble than it was worth keeping them in his apartment. He really hoped that his roommate took his warnings seriously and didn’t enter his room, even if he had been missing for a bit. 

Despite Stiles’ complete disdain for his captors design choices, here he was, seemingly trapped for the newest villain to come in and monologue. Stiles hoped they could get everything done quickly, he had really been planning to work on his mythology paper at least a bit before the weekend. But alas, instead he was going to be kept sitting here, on a musty cot, while whatever evil-wannabe left him to kick his heels before asking him a series of questions he really couldn’t answer. He wasn’t exactly sure where people were getting their information from. Stiles felt poor research skills were obviously pervasive in the hunter community. He was almost disappointed. He hadn’t stepped foot in Beacon Hills in three years, his phone derelict, void of any text messages and he never had visitors. He had been abandoned when his father lay in the hospital, and when the machines flat-lined Stiles kissed Melissa on the cheek and walked away. He hadn’t really looked back. 

Hunters, however, seemed to be more inclined to believe he was lying to protect the pack. They figured if they held him long enough he would either break or the pack would come. In the face of completely incorrect stubbornness, Stiles maintained his right to defend himself. The list of deceased he sent to Chris grew every few weeks, but otherwise he lived his life like any other college kid. Though, he did clean up a few messes for the local selkie pack, and the vampire clan up north, and earned his own lodging for a few spell book translations for a witch. So, like any college kid with remarkably weird hobbies and the type of edge that only near-death experiences can provide. 

But, Stiles was thinking more and more of opening up a little bookshop/ consulting gig when he graduated in two months. He didn’t think it would be easy, but he also felt that he had an expertise that others could benefit from. Perhaps he could prevent others from following down his path, or at least training them so they didn’t have to face their first Wendigo armed with a quick google search and a prayer. Stiles, particularly, had his eye on a cute little shop he had seen in Portland on his last visit up. He also felt Portland was just weird enough that his strange visitors would be able to fly under the radar, both literally and figuratively. His fascination with Portland had nothing to do with the rumors of a black wolf with blue eyes nor whispers of a bearded recluse. None at all. 

But Stiles should know better than to think of good things, even briefly. When the door opened a bloodied mess was thrown in before the metal clanged shut, a bolt scrapping across to hold it shut. Stiles really hoped that the person was alive, because the fact that he, a measly human had been chained up, and the bloodied mess had not, boded really poorly. 

The lump groaned and rolled over. Time stopped. Rage overtook everything and all thoughts of civility ceased.  
Stiles always knew that his rage would be the end of him. But at this moment he didn’t care, because how dare they.  
He had been free.  
He had been off living in the woods of Portland.  
He had been safe from this world, safe from the hunters, safe from villains of the week, safe from a pack who demanded too much. And most importantly, safe from Stiles, who kept tabs from afar to ensure he would stay safe and happy and whole.

Stiles’ magic had always been linked to emotion. At first it was the sharpness of fear, before the mellowing of sadness. Recently, he would say his magic had brightened with a hard-earned contentment. Now, though, he was a raging inferno. 

He barely noticed the cuffs melting off as he stood. Nothing could pull his gaze from the man in the center of the room. He burned the wolfsbane from the wounds, bringing Derek back from whatever the hunters had done. Stiles didn’t notice the whirlwind in the room, he couldn’t hear the shouts coming from outside. He saw only fading bruises and shredded clothes.  
Finally, he collapsed next to his old friend, caressing a healing face with a tenderness he couldn’t muster for anyone else. Electric blue eyes snapped open and Derek brought his hands up. He gasped Stiles’ name like a prayer and Stiles’ last shred of control snapped. They were kissing like their lives depended on it, like everything was suddenly falling into place. 

And then Derek’s eyes drooped. The moment was gone. 

There was no sound, no rushing wind, no warning at all. Just a burnt shell of a house with two men at the epicenter.  
Derek’s eyes opened again as Stiles felt the last of his magic slip away. Drained. He didn’t care. That blessed heartbeat was steady again, and the men responsible were gone. Skeletons in a house that smoldered. 

Stiles dragged Derek up, off the ground into his arms. They limped away from the scene towards the road, uncertain of an exact direction. Stiles would eventually have to figure out why they had been captured. Figure out how they found Derek and ensure no one else could ever touch him again. He would have to collect names for Chris and make new threats.  
But for now, he would get them home. 

He would pray his roommate wasn’t home to see him drag Derek across the threshold. He would find out what happened. He would kiss Derek senseless again and again and again. He would keep working towards that little shop in Portland, with this man at his side. He couldn’t save everyone, the pack and his dad has proven that, but he could keep this one man safe. He would protect Derek, because when he was really honest with himself, when he listened to the whispers in the back of his mind, Stiles knew that if he kept this one perfect thing safe, the rest of the world could burn.


End file.
